


The Long Arm of the Office of SPAG!

by Rickey



Series: SPAG!Draco [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickey/pseuds/Rickey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which SPAG!Draco abuses his power and abuses Stephenie Meyer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Arm of the Office of SPAG!

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the SPAG!Draco Series
> 
> SPAG thanks to: absynthedrinker for the speedy late night beta. All remaining mistakes are mine, and SPAG!Draco will flog me as appropriate. Also, thanks to marguerite_26 for her amazing ability to kick herself in the arse to write and that it's quite contagious.

  


The Long Arm of the Office of SPAG! 

  


As Harry entered the pub, through the crowd he caught sight of Ron motioning to the waitress to bring a round of drinks. It was crowded as usual for Friday night, and Harry had to stop and say hello to several of his mates and even a few ministry officials as he made his way to Ron and Hermione. By the time he reached their table in the back, a Dragonfire ale was waiting for him.

"Hullo, sorry I'm late." He gave a quick peck to Hermione's cheek and sat down. "Draco's not here yet?"

"When has Draco ever made it here before you?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

It wasn't getting any easier.

Harry drank his beer, while Ron described an encounter he had with a wizard from Greece who'd recently attracted the attention of British Aurors.

"Bloke said he was on vacation. I can't imagine wanting to come to London from Greece in the dead of winter."

Harry shrugged as he kept an eye on the door for Draco. The man took fashionably late to new levels.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked when Harry's attention had drifted away completely.

"Sorry. Draco's been buried at work the last two weeks. Much more than usual," Harry added after Hermione's pointed look. "Seriously, he's been working day and night on some big project. I've hardly seen him."

"You're complaining?"

"Ron!" Hermione pinched Ron's arm. "You promised."

Ron threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. So, what kind of project?" Ron asked with what was obviously feigned interest.

"Some sort of vampire investigation."

At Harry's words, Hermione's eyes bugged out in panic, and she and Ron exchanged an indecipherable look.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You'd better tell him," Ron said.

"Tell me what?" Harry felt the beer churn in his stomach.

"I thought he'd catch on immediately," she said a if pleading her innocence.

"What?"

"Well..."

"What?" Worry bubbled up in Harry throat.

"You remember how well our night out together went last month," she said with a tilt and nod of her head, allowing for Harry to fill in the blanks.

He did remember, quite vividly in fact. Draco and Hermione had argued all night about the Ministry's policies on Muggle relations. Harry had left the pub with a raging headache after it had taken the better part of an hour to coax Draco into removing the Lip-Locker Curse he had cast on Hermione in a dramatic fit regarding the Statute of Secrecy trumping all other mandates.

"Not one of our better evenings, but you should know better than to engage him in debate about any magical policies," Harry said, hoping she would realize the blame was not entirely Draco's. She had become quite agitated and accusatory. Thankfully, Ron had sat back, sipped his beer, and stayed out of it. "What's that have to do with why Draco's being busy?"

A devilish smile ghosted Hermione's face for a brief second, before she spoke in a professional tone. "I sent a rather lengthy manuscript to the department of SPAG with an urgent notice."

Ron laughed. "That's hardly what you did."

"Okay. Okay. It was a Muggle teen novel about vampires and I Charmed it to make it look like a Vampire report from the Magical Relations Department. Rather tricky to transfer to ink and parchment and get all the Ministry seals correct, but I found a--"

"Hermione!" Harry needed to stop her before she spent ten minutes explaining some complicated spell algorithm that would go completely over his head.

"Well, it looked good, but I swear, I thought he'd catch on after reading a few pages."

"Well," Ron added, "you did create the fake files."

"You," Harry said in disbelief, "forged Ministry files?"

"No, not really. I just set up a personnel file for Stephenie Meyer and labeled her a vampire expert. It barely holds together as a Muggle novel. I thought Draco would laugh at it and send me a Howler or something. I swear, I just wanted to take the piss out of that pompous little... well, trip him up for a few minutes. I think I deserved a little pay back, don't you?"

"He's been working on that thing for two weeks-- day and night. He's gone through two cases of red ink. He's usually only one case a month."

"Unless he's red-lining your reports, mate," Ron teased.

"Seriously, I can't believe--"

"Good evening, pardon my tardiness," Draco said, as he slid into the chair next to Harry. "Don't stop arguing on my account. I find it rather sporting."

Immediately, Harry noticed the red ink staining Draco's fingers. An outsider might think it blood, but Harry knew that Draco preferred a permanent red ink that was almost impossible to remove by soap or spell. Draco kept a special potion at home, so he had obviously come straight from his office.

"Draco," Harry said, trying to be cheerful, "Hermione has something to tell you." Harry hoped that be lightening his mood that he'd be able to get Draco to laugh it all off as a joke. Okay, it was wishful thinking, because there was no way this was going to end well. Harry shimmied his wand out from its holster, and held it under the table.

"Maybe, he should have a drink first," suggested Hermione, signaling the waitress.

They made stiff small talk until Draco's wine arrived.

"I now have drink in hand," Draco said with his typical dramatic flair, "what is it that has Harry's bits bunched up tighter than a pack of Garden Gnomes in February?"

"Harry mentioned that you've been quite busy at work." Despite Hermione's serious tone, Harry could tell that she was suppressing a smile. Her eyes looked absolutely gleeful.

"I've had an unbearable project. Took me over two and a half weeks, but I finally finished," Draco stated proudly, and then lifted his glass in toast. When everyone stared at him awkwardly instead of clinking, he raised a well groomed eyebrow and set the glass down. He turned to face Harry. "I believe your best mate has been messing around with Ministry files. I'm positive that's not in her job description."

"Wait," Hermione said, "you know?"

Draco took a long sip of his wine and made her wait for his reply.

With a nonchalant roll of his eyes, he answered, "Of course I knew."

"You know about Muggle fiction?" Hermione asked, in a state of complete disbelief.

"Don't be absurd. Within the first few paragraphs, I knew it couldn't have been written by anyone other than some pathetic Muggle with a misguided sense of romance. It was most certainly not a chronicle of vampire sightings in the United States."

"But Harry said you'd been working on it?" Hermione said.

"I thought it would be the death of me. Do you see these hands?" Draco held out is ink stained fingers. "They were not meant for such toil. It was the most depressing job I've ever done. Worst piece of dung I've ever had to edit, and that includes Harry's monstrosities."

Harry smacked Draco on the back of the head. The man loved to exaggerate. His reports weren't that bad.

"Protest all you want, they're horrid," Draco said.

"Wait. You edited it? The whole thing?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, dreadful stuff too. The writing's as crude as a first year's History of Magic essay and about half as interesting. Delusional Muggle thinks that vampires sparkle. The bloody thing had more teen angst than exists cumulatively in the universe, and I was in Slytherin with Pansy. She--"

"Stop. Stop." Hermione held her hand up. "What. Did. You. Do?"

"A little slow on the uptake, are you? Amazing the way people think you're so intelligent."

"Draco," Harry said softly in an attempt to keep the peace. "What did you do?"

"I told you. I edited the bloody piece of owl-cage-liner and sent it back to her."

"You did not!" Hermione said it before Harry got the chance to.

"Relax your knickers," Draco said. "It was official Department of SPAG business. I notified her that the book was utter rubbish and banned from all Wizarding bookshops and retail stores in Britain."

"You can't do that, can you?" Ron said.

"I most certainly can, and I did. Banned." Draco snapped his fingers above his head for emphasis.

Hermione looked bewildered. "What about the Statute of Secrecy? What about the dozen or so other Ministry laws and international agreements you've just broken?"

"And just how many rules did you break forging a Ministry personnel file. Not a very good job of it either. One flimsy little page?"

Hermione's face turned red and she chewed on her bottom lip. "It wasn't meant to be convincing. It was a _joke_."

"Draco," Harry said, trying to keep calm, "when did you send it. Maybe there's a chance we can stop it?"

"Don't bother. I sent it with a direct Portkey. Took me all afternoon to arrange it. That's why I was a tad late."

"How could you have--" Draco held up his hand and cut off Hermione's question.

"In your attempt to set up your little ruse, you overlooked, or perhaps did no looking at all, the US Wizards International Relations files. If you had bothered to do even a minimum of fact checking, you would have found that Ms. Meyer has a wizard for an uncle, her mother's side. The woman has many magical cousins and knowledge of the wizarding world. Well, American, which hardly counts in my eyes, but is considered part of the modern wizarding international community."

"You're joking," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at Draco.

"About the Americans?"

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "That she has wizards in her family."

"Sadly, no. There's even an Auror, if you can believe that. Holly something or other. There was an entire file for Auror 66. Harry, did you know the Americans number their Aurors? Strange custom, among many, of course. Glad they don't do that here. I'd bloody have to call you Number One, or something equally absurd. Although, Weasley would be called Number Two. That could be amusing."

"But Meyer's not magical?" asked Harry, ignoring the rest of Draco's rant. He'd learned months ago to let the tangential rantings drop.

"Merlin, no. Still, you would've thought with her background that she could've come up with better or at least her uncle should've Banished the wretched thing. Unfortunately, the Department of SPAG has its limits and I can't punish him for being a complete twit."

"You don't have the power to ban books either," Hermione said.

"Ms. Meyer doesn't know that." Draco finished the remainder of his wine.

"Why, Draco, why?" Hermione asked. "All that work, for what?"

"You may have thought you were playing a clever prank, but in the end I was performing a public service."

"Which was?" Hermione looked perplexed, but Harry knew that Draco thought every SPAG duty he did was in the name of public service. Hell, Draco thought his performing fellatio was a public service. Harry didn't care as long as it was him being serviced.

"Saving my fellow wizards and witches from such dreadful rubbish."

*****

They arrived at Harry's flat well after midnight, mildly drunk and exhausted from Draco's night long ranting about plausible plot points, character development, and productive use of emotional collateral.

Harry had missed having Draco in his bed and was grateful that the damned project, prank, or whatever public service Draco thought he'd been performing was now over. He didn't care about teenage girls, vampires, or the Department of SPAG. He wanted to get shagged.

"You won," said Harry into the curve of Draco's neck. "Can you let it go now?"

"But I haven't even told you abou--"

Harry shushed him with a quick kiss. "Would you rather discuss literary structure, or fuck?"

"Tough choice." Draco was always the tease.

Harry stripped off his clothes with the wave of his wand. "I'm going to fuck you straight through the mattress and into the floorboards."

"I choose the fucking," Draco replied, then took Harry by the hand and led him to the bedroom.

**End**


End file.
